Even Geniuses Get the Blues
by Shunyata Ryuen
Summary: A Chiriko (!) reincarnation fic. ^_~.
1. Notes

**Author's Note, Part Une:**

**Readers:**  What the HELL??  A _Chiriko_ reincarnation fic???  *gasp-choke-sputter*  

**Ryuen:**  What can I say?  I've grown attached to the kid.  *pinches cheeks*

**Chiriko:**  ...

**Ryuen:**  Well.  Anyway. ^^;;;  Naturally, the other seishi *coughlikeNurikocough* will make appearances in this fic, but t'will center around Chiriko, just 'cause...well, he's a cool guy, and I don't think there are nearly enough fics written about him.  I will not, however, be conforming to tradition and making this a Let's Focus Only On Chiriko and Mitsukake Because They're the Underappreciated Ones Fic.  The focus will be on Chiriko, and whoever else might happen to drop in along the way.  

**Mitsukake:  **That's hardly fair.

**Ryuen:  **Awww, I'm sorry, Mits.  But, hey!  You get to be the main guy in Mouse-chan's story!    
  


**Mitsukake:  **You will notice, however, that in that story, the double-u'ed Ryuuen is the primary focus of both my attention and that of the readers, reviewers, and _author_.  The title, also, reflects _Ryuuen_, and not me.  I am not a blackbird.

**Ryuen:  **Which is, um...a good thing to know.  *nod*  Well, anyway!  On with the fic!  

**Chiriko:  **Leave a review if you read, minna-san!  Onegaishimasu!

**Nuriko:  **NE!  Why aren't Hotohori-sama and I in this author's note!?

**Hotohori:  **It appears as if we are now, Nuriko.

**Nuriko:  **...oh.  Okay. ^____^.

~*~

**Author's Note, Part Deux:**

There _is_ shounen ai in this fic, but I extend my solemn promise that none of it involves Chiriko.  All those who read my stuff or know me are aware that I'm a big pusher of shounen ai, but I just don't see it in Chiriko's character.  Not saying it's not _possible_...just that my interpretation of good ole Doukun isn't gay.  *shrug*  Anyway, as I said before, though, there _is_ shounen ai in here, so if that bothers you, dear reader, then do skip along to a different fic.  Much as I enjoy flames, those that complain of shounen ai in a story that is clearly marked just seems less than terribly intelligent to me.  

Also!  To anyone who's interested in trying to "picture" an older Chiriko and can't do it, I'd suggest visiting http://www.sempai.org/~felicia/pics/Fushigi-Yuugi/chiri16.jpg.  It's a part of Tomo no Miko's site (great site, by the way! ^_^.) and will show you a really spiffy sketch of a sixteen-year-old Chiriko.  He is, in Tomo no Miko's words, "a babe." ^_~.

But, anyway.  ^_~.  Enough talk.  Stop reading the notes and get onto the story.  ^__^.


	2. Chapter 1: Two Gay Guys and a Blueberry...

**Even Geniuses Get the Blues**

by Ryuen

~*~

I frowned.  "I'm not..._boring_.  Am I?"

She stared at me for a long time, eyebrows pressing together on her forehead, and then she gave a little sigh and sat back in her chair.  "It's not that you're boring _per se_," she offered diplomatically.  "Just that you're...erm...not as exciting as, say...a lot of the other guys who want to date me.  I mean, seriously, Doukun, what would we do if we went out?  Check out books together?  Watch the History Channel?  What's your idea of a romantic evening?  A candlelit study session at the library?  Honestly, I think you're a great guy and all, but..."  She shook her head.  "I really don't think we should be anything more than friends right now.  We're just...not compatible enough."  Her eyebrows bent upwards.  "You understand, right?  I-I just really don't think it'd work out between us.  And, I really value your friendship!"  
  


_Ouch._

I gave a nod, managing to keep the tiny smile pasted on my lips for her benefit.  "No, I understand completely."  I let the smile grow a little wider, trying to ignore the fact that our waitress had finally arrived and was tapping a pen impatiently against a notepad.  "It's perfectly all right.  I value your friendship a great deal, too."  
  


The waitress tapped a little louder.  "'Scuse me.  Ready to order?"  
  


I swallowed.  I liked Kristen a lot--obviously, if I cared enough to actually ask her out, which was something I _never_ did--but, the thought of sitting here and casually eating with her after what had just happened was a little too much for me to bear.

"Ah, that's all right," I said, rising from my chair.  "I was actually just leaving.  Lots of studying to do, after all!"

Kristen gave me a sad little smile, then nodded a goodbye--and, no matter what we might've said about preserving our friendship, I knew right then and there that things would never be the same between us again.  Maybe they would for her; she seemed like a pretty resilient individual, and I was fairly sure that she was the kind of person who could forget something like this without much trouble, take a few big steps backwards and pretend like I'd never said a word about us going out.  But, for me, it was different.  I couldn't erase what I'd done today, no more than I could change what she'd said in response to it. 

I sighed, pushing open the door to the pizza shop and giving Kristen one last longing glance.  

She was perfect.  Beautiful, smart, talented, friendly, caring--but...  I sighed again, took a step outside, and heard the jangle of the door slamming shut behind me.

But she, like every other girl on campus, was not interested in me.

My hands slid into the pockets of my jeans, and I started off at a brisk walk towards my dorm.  It was okay, I told myself firmly.  It was _okay_ that she wasn't interested.  I mean, it wasn't like I'd expected her to be, or like I'd actually thought that she would leap across the table and fall into my arms, or something.  No.  As a realistic, logical thinker, I could certainly see that the likelihood of something like that happening was small.

But...

I sighed again.  But, not even _one date?_  Not even a _chance?_  Just, don't-want-to-spoil-our-friendship-hope-you-understand, goodbye?  What was it about me that girls found so...so...un-datable?  Was it my hair?  My height?  My personality?  My intelligence?  Why was it that I could understand the most intricate functions of quantum mechanics and _still_ could not look at a girl and understand what she saw when she looked back?  

I kicked at the sidewalk, hands still folded into my pockets.  "Happy Birthday, Doukun," I mumbled.

By the time I got back to my dorm, I really wasn't in the mood to just go sit in my room, so instead I turned up Victoria and headed for Starbucks.  I'd only recently begun drinking coffee--my parents had always warned me that it would stunt my growth, so I never drank any during my younger days, but by now that seemed a moot point.  I was five foot two--a pathetic height for anyone, least of all a boy--and, five foot two I was going to stay until I became an old man and shrank to five foot one or five feet or...I don't know, maybe disappeared entirely.  

Starbucks was insanely crowded.  Of course, it was about three, the time a _lot_ of college kids finished their classes, so perhaps that was a partial explanation, at least.  Whatever the case, it was almost ten minutes before I could get to the counter and order my large iced mocha, and by then I was feeling so depressed that I actually broke from tradition and asked for whipped cream on the top.  

Then, armed with a heap of fluffed up sugar and already anticipating the welcome burst of caffeine, I  moved carefully away from the counter and started to search for a table.  I didn't really expect to find one, truthfully--despite the volume of customers, this particular Starbucks was actually not very large at all, and had perhaps only a dozen or so tables available.  The chances of one freeing up the moment I stepped away from the counter were...

But, just as I lifted my eyes to scan the room again, the three girls who'd been sipping cappucinos immediately in front of me gathered up their possessions, rose to their feet, and walked out the door, leaving behind a free, clean, and empty table.  Blinking in surprise, I slid forward, dropped my bookbag onto one of the chairs, and sat down.       

As I sat there, dunking my finger into the whipped cream and then drawing little bits of it to my mouth, I began to realize just how lucky I'd been, getting a table.  The place was, if possible, even more crowded than it had been when I'd come in--the line stretched out the door and onto the sidewalk, and nearly every single table but mine was completely and entirely filled.  But, still, despite being rather deafening, the noise was good.  The rumble of so many voices, all blending together...it cancelled out the buzzing of my own thoughts, made it possible to just sit, drink, and listen.  It made it possible to forget that I was seventeen today and no one had noticed.  It made it possible to forget that Kristen had been my closest friend and now was not anymore.  And, most of all, it made it possible to forget that the semester was almost over, and then I would be back under my mother's smothering roof, working at Eat'n Park and preparing for next semester and praying that the summer would end quickly.  

_It's too bad my scholarship doesn't cover summer classes.  I would certainly rather be in school than bussing tables and washing dishes.  Perhaps, if I earned enough before the summer semester started, Mom would let me at least take one or two classes...?_

I was just realizing that I'd somehow fallen back into my depressive mood when, unexpectedly, a shadow fell over my vision.  Startled, I glanced up...and, saw that a boy, perhaps a year or two older than myself, was standing there in front of me, a steaming Starbucks cup cradled in his left hand.  

"Hi!" he greeted cheerfully.  "I don't mean to bother you, but do you think I could sit down?  It's just that all the other tables are taken, and I noticed that you seemed to be alone...  You're not waiting for someone, are you?"

_Me?  Waiting for someone?  You must have confused with some other introvert._

I offered a polite smile.  "No, I'm not waiting for anyone."  
  


He brightened.  "Oh, great!  Mind if I sit down?"  
  


I stretched out a hand to gesture to the chair...and didn't realize until I did so that there was a large dollop of whipped cream rising up from my thumb like a giant white wart.  Flushing, I grabbed up a napkin and wiped it away, horribly embarrassed for some reason, but the boy just laughed and sat down.  He was only a few inches taller than me, which immediately set me at ease (if there's one thing I appreciate, it's other short guys), and I actually think he was thinner than I was, which was something I hadn't thought possible until that moment.  As it was, though, he looked slender whereas I just looked emaciated--his face was smooth-skinned and heart-shaped, his complexion _fair_ to my downright _pallid._  

The one thing about him that most caught my attention, though, was the strange coloring of his hair and eyes.  They were varying shades of violet, the eyes a rosy-brownish violet to the hair's purer, darker violet, but where his bangs fell into his eyes, I got the impression that the two shades were blending, somehow, melding into one...

...and, suddenly, I snapped out of my musings with the realization that he'd said something.

"Sorry?" I managed.

The boy grinned and ducked his head a bit--the movement sent a thick purple ponytail swaying behind his head.  "Ryuen," he repeated.  

I blinked.  _What the...?  What language is he..._

"That's my name," Ryuen amended, stretching a hand over the table for me to shake.  "Chou Ryuen."  
  


Vaguely surprised, I nonetheless lifted my hand (checking first to make sure there was no whipped cream on it, of course) and accepted the shake.  His fingers were cool against mine, smooth and soft like Kristen's.  "Ou Doukun," I said evenly.  "It's, ah, nice to meet you."  
  


"Nice to meet you, too, Doukun."  His fingers slid from mine, then, and wrapped around the Starbucks cup, which I could now see contained the heated version of my own drink, minus the whipped cream.  Carefully, Ryuen lifted the cup to his lips, closed his eyes, and took a long, slow, savoring drink.  

"Ahhhh," he breathed afterwards, lowering the cup back to the table top.  "Thank God for coffee."

I smiled, drawing a sip from my own cup.  "Yes."  I meant to say more, but he plunged onward into a new avenue of conversation before I had the chance to.

"So, are you a student here?"  
  


I offered a nod, casting a baleful glance at the large, lumpy bookbag still residing in the chair beside me.  "Yes.  Second-semester freshman."

Ryuen gazed at me levelly.  "Well," he said slowly, "let me give you some advice, then, Doukun, and something that I wish someone'd told _me_ when I was just a freshman."  He cleared his throat, then leaned forward and locked me into a strangely-intense stare.  "Good grades are important, but don't let them become your whole life.  There's so much more to college than just getting a good G.P.A., and some things that are a _lot_ more important."  
  


It felt like something cold and hard had thudded into my stomach; the words hammered into my soul like sharpened spikes, leaving me feeling injured and hurt and vulnerable.  This boy had just, after only two minutes of conversation, somehow managed to stumble onto the subject that most bothered me about my life, and pull it back up into the light as effortlessly as I imagined he ordered coffee.  

_I...I -know- there are more important things than studying.  I -know- it.  Do you think I don't want to have friends and a girlfriend and people who care about me?  Do you think I don't -want- to have a social life?  I do!  But, what can I do about it, now?  It's too late.  It's...it's too late._

Somehow, I managed to maintain my composure, hiding my grimace behind a lengthy sip.  "I'll...I'll keep that in mind," I told him, trying not to sound too impolite.  "Thanks."  
  


Apparently I didn't, because Ryuen continued without much pause.  "So, how old are you, Doukun?  You're a little young to be in college, aren't you?"  
  


"I'm sixt--"  I broke off, and felt a slight blush color my cheeks.

_You can remember and quote every mathematical theorem you've ever learned, but you can't remember how old you are.  That's great, Doukun.  That's juuuuust great._

"Seventeen," I amended, hoping I didn't sound too stupid.  Despite what emotions he might've dredged up in me, I found myself really liking this Ryuen person, and--strangely enough--caring what he thought of me.  "Sorry," I continued with a sheepish smile, "I just turned, so I'm not really used to being seventeen, yet."  
  


"Oh, you just turned?  When?"  
  


"Um...today, actually."  
  


Ryuen's face lit up; his palms fell flat onto the table, and for a minute I was truly afraid that he was going to leap up from his chair and hug me.  "Happy birthday!!!" he exclaimed.  "Hey, what the heck're you doing moping around Starbucks on your birthday??"  
  


I winced.  "Ah, I was...thirsty?"

Ryuen opened his mouth to say something else, but then his gaze shifted suddenly, and a wide smile spread over his face.  "I told you you shouldn't have let all those girls go ahead of you!" he called, rising to his feet and staring at something just past my left shoulder.  

I turned...and was just in time to see a tall, broad-chested man moving gracefully towards us, a Starbucks cup in one hand and a blueberry danish in the other.  He had an amazing presence, although I coudn't pick out exactly why--there was just something about him that commanded respect and attention, something solemn and almost imperial about the raise of his chin, the posture of his shoulders.  Or, maybe it was the fluid way he walked, or the long chestnut hair that swept back behind him like a royal cape as he moved.  Whatever the case, the breath was caught in my lungs at the very sight of him.

...which was a good thing, I suppose, because then at least there was no air left for me to gasp with when, unexpectedly, Ryuen glided forward, wrapped his arms around the tall man's neck, and _kissed_ him on the mouth.  

I glanced around in shock, wondering if these two realized that this was _Western Pennsylvania_, for God's sake...  But, surprisingly, no one in the crowded Starbucks seemed to even be giving them a second glance, which seemed _really_ strange to me, particularly since the last gay couple I'd seen embrace in public had shortly found themselves surrounded by a flood of curse words and nasty glares.  It wasn't until the two separated that I realized that the majority of these people probably thought that Ryuen was a girl, what with his slenderness and his height and his hair and his...well, all right, all of him.  As a matter of fact, now that I looked at him...

I shook my head.  No.  No, he was _definitely _a him.  He was wearing a fairly tight-fitting brown collared shirt that probably _had_ been designed for a girl, but where the neckline cut deeply, I could clearly see a very flat, very male chest.  Ryuen was a boy.  But, even so...

_How did I know, just to look at him?  It never once crossed my mind that he might be a girl, but...how could it not?  _

As Ryuen and his...erm..._companion_ were heading back to the table, now, I decided to explore that line of thought later, and grant them my full attention.  After all, how often was it that I found myself sitting in a Starbucks on my seventeenth birthday with two gay guys and a blueberry danish?

I took a sobering drink of my iced mocha. 

_Not all that damn often, Doukun.  Not all that often._

~*~


	3. Chapter 2: When Beauty Insults You

~*~

"It wasn't chivalry," Saihitei--whom Ryuen had just introduced me to--was saying.  

He'd lowered himself gracefully into the chair on my left, while Ryuen had returned to the seat directly across the table from me, and now the two were absorbed in conversation and pretty much ignoring me.  Not that I minded, of course--fading into the background was something I did extremely well--but, actually, I wasn't getting the usual being-ignored vibe from these two.  It was more like...like both of them were _so_ aware of my presence that they were ignoring me for the sake of not being obtrusive, or...  I shook my head.  It was an odd feeling, and a difficult one to define.  

Saihitei cleared his throat, then, which snapped me out of my thoughts--I watched his eyes flicker up from his coffee and onto Ryuen, who was currently breaking off little pieces of the danish and sticking them in his mouth.  "It was common courtesy," the tall man continued.  "They were late for a class, and as I wasn't in much of a hurry, I let them go in front of me."  He shrugged.  "Any decent person would've done the same."  
  


Ryuen looked up at that, and for a minute I couldn't decipher his expression at all...but, then, his face broke into a grin, and he leaned forward to give Saihitei a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek.  "You're _too_ decent sometimes, I think," he commented as he slid back into his seat.  The smile returned.  "But, hey, that's okay.  I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, Saihitei actually appeared to be _blushing_...but, then, he shook his head a little, sending long strands of hair sweeping down over his cheeks, and by the time the hair fluttered back into place, whatever it was had faded away.  

And then, unexpectedly, I found his eyes on _me_.  "So, Doukun," he said pleasantly, "what is it that you're studying here?"  
  


I blinked, and for some reason, drew a complete blank for almost a full second before anything like speech came into my head.  "I-I'm undecided," I managed at last.  I cleared my throat.  "But, I'm leaning towards either Physics or Mathematics, or perhaps Chemistry or Biology or Statistics...although I've heard that Statistics is an extremely dry field of study, and so perhaps it'd be a better idea for me to maybe just _minor_ in Statistics and double-major in Physics and..."  I trailed off, realizing that they were both staring at me with wide eyes, and felt a blush of my own come into my cheeks.  "I'm undecided," I finished quietly.  

Ryuen grinned, stretching up a hand to wipe some of the danish crumbs from his lips.  "I get the impression that you've thought about this a little bit before."

I flushed.  "Y-Yes, a little."  
  


"Well, that's excellent," Saihitei announced, head ducking into a firm nod.  "There are very few college freshman who are taking their futures seriously, but it looks like you are."

Something inside of me frowned, gave my mind a little tap.  _Hey, um...did I tell him that I was a freshman?_

_Oh, come on, Doukun.  Look at yourself.  Could you be anything else?_

_But..._

_How'd he know I was in college to begin with, anyway?  I don't look like a college student any more than Ryuen looks like a boy.  _

I shifted in my seat, hiding a slight frown beneath the last of my iced mocha.__

_He most likely just made an educated guess.  You're sitting here in a college coffee shop with a bookbag full of college books.  What else could you be? _

_S...Still.  Something's...weird about these two.  Something's...something's really strange._

"Hey," said Ryuen suddenly, eyes lighting up, "Sai and I were just going over to the pizza place to meet up with some friends of ours.  If you're not busy...wouldja like to come?  I'm sure they'd love to meet you."  
  


I raised an eyebrow, now fully certain that I had somehow stumbled into an episode of The Twilight Zone, because there was no _way_ that this was actually happening.  "Ahhh...I don't know.  I really should get back to my room.  Lots of studying to do, after all..."  
  


But, Ryuen was already out of his chair, and before I knew what was going on, he'd taken my arm, drawn me up out of my seat, and was leading me towards the door.  "Oh, don't be silly," he said, guiding me through the crowd of prospective coffee-buyers.  "It's not like you can't _leave_ any time.  It's just down the street."

And, with any luck, Kristen would still be there.  Great.

I dug my heels into the ground, and despite the fact that I was eerily sure that Ryuen could've flung me over his shoulder and _carried_ me if he'd really wanted to get me out of there, he stopped, too, and released my arm.  We were only a few feet away from the door, still wrapped in a cocoon of Starbucks customers, but Ryuen was standing close enough to me that I didn't have to shout for him to hear me.

"Really," I said, feeling nervous without knowing why.  "I'd like to come, but I...I can't.  I'm sorry.  I have a lot to get to work on."  As Ryuen was suddenly looking like I'd stepped on his dog, I grimaced and added, "I-If it were a Friday, or something, it'd be different, really.  It's just that's it's Tuesday, and I have a lot due tomorrow, and--"  
  


"Ooh, great!" Ryuen exclaimed.  "Great!  I'm glad you feel that way!  So, we'll see you on Friday, then, huh?"

I blinked.  "Ahh...what?"

By now, Saihitei--who apparently had been throwing away our empty cups and disposing of the danish--had caught up with us; he moved into place just behind Ryuen and rested his hands on the smaller man's shoulders, gave them a gentle squeeze.  For a moment, I thought he was going to be on my side, maybe ask Ryuen politely to stop trying to drag me into the middle of their social lives...but, instead, he nodded and gave me a friendly smile.

"We're having a little get-together of friends on Friday," he explained slowly.  "There'll only be...seven or eight of us, but...well, we'd love for you to come."  
  


I shook my head a bit helplessly, confused and frowning and not sure if I could find the breath to answer.  "But...but, you just _met_ me," I managed at last.  "We've known each other for--"  I glanced at my watch.  "--_ten minutes_.  Why...why would you want me to come?"

Ryuen stared at me for a long time, and I got the impression that there was a lot more going on behind his eyes than I knew, that something _immense_ was happening here and no one had bothered to send me the memo or something...  And, then, his left eye dipped into a wink, and he smiled.  "I'm a good judge of character," he said brightly.  "And, besides.  It's your birthday, right?"  
  


"Yes, but...it won't be on Friday."

_I'm sure they'd be lost without that wisdom, Doukun..._

"Ehhh, that doesn't matter.  Look, I've spent enough birthdays of my own without anybody to celebrate with me, and I can tell you, it's no fun.  So, just...consider it my birthday present to you, okay?"  
  


I gave an exasperated sigh.  "But, you don't even kn--"  
  


Right in the middle of my sentence, though, something slammed into my from behind, and I went stumbling forward.  Somehow, Ryuen managed to catch me before I went face-first into the floor, and even though I hit into him pretty hard, he lifted me back to my feet..._really_ easily.  Blinking and surprised and finding the wind mostly knocked out of me, I grabbed onto his arms to hoist myself back up, starting to turn to see just who had hit into me...

...and found myself staring into two of the deepest, richest blue eyes I'd ever seen in my life.

For perhaps a half a second, things seemed stereotypically frozen; I looked at her, she looked at me...

_She's...she's so..._

A million words came to mind, all flooding into my brain at the same instant.

_Beautiful sophisticated elegant breathtaking amazing **perfect**_.

I saw us walking hand in hand together down the street, me carrying her books, her smiling and squeezing my fingers every few steps.  I saw me buying her coffee, bringing it to her, then sitting there with her in a sun-filled Starbucks and laughing over our favorite books.  I saw us watching T.V. together in the dorm lounge, her head resting on my shoulder, my arm around her, holding her close...

_Do you, Doukun, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?  Ohhh, I do!  And, do you...er...Beautiful Girl, take Doukun to be your lawful wedded husband?  I do!!  Of course, I do!  Then, by the power vested in me--_

"Hey, _kid_, watch where you're fuckin' going."  
  


_..._

_Crumble crumble crumble._

I stared at her in shock, mouth hanging open, unable to breathe deeply enough to ask what in the name of God was going on.  Sh-she was perfect!!  Tall, slender, well...um...formed, with silky golden hair and those eyes!  Those _eyes!!_  I'd never seen a blue this blue...!  And, yet, she...she was scowling at me, pink lips pursing together in irritation, and I was shocked by the level of hatred in that stare.

Ryuen's grip on my shoulders tightened a bit, and he steadied me enough so I could--hypothetically, at least--stand on my own.  I wavered a little, still stunned, but somehow managed to stay upright.

"Always great to run into you, Ayuru," Ryuen offered, sounding startlingly-less than the cordial, pleasant boy I'd met minutes earlier.  

_A...Ayuru?_

Ayuru gave Ryuen a witheringly-cold stare, drawing the purse she was holding closer to her chest.  "You, too, of course, Ryuen."  Her eyes flickered up to Saihitei, and was it my imagination, or did her eyebrow lift, just slightly...?  "Saihitei," she acknolwedged, lips twisting into a dark smile.  "I don't think I've seen you for...oh, a lifetime, at least."  The smile lifted.  "How's the family?"

It's always strange, trying to define something that happens on a level beneath conscious level...but, whatever the case, I suddenly had the very strange feeling that there was a _lot_ more going on here than it seemed, and that...somehow...it had to do with me, too.

Before Saihitei could answer, Ryuen had pushed me behind him, sending me thudding into Saihitei's chest, and was stepping forward.  Ayuru was taller than he was by at least a few inches, but he still managed to look threatening as he stopped right in front of her, jabbed a finger at her face.  What he said next was so low that I could barely hear it, and what I _did_ catch...I shook my head.  Well, it was just impossible.  Why on earth would he say _that?_

_Must've misheard._

Ayuru left immediately after that, looking flushed and angry, and swept over to the shortening line of Starbucks customers to, I assumed, order some coffee.  I couldn't help but watch her, mesmerized by the fluidity of her movements, the grace and the beauty and the...aggggghhhh.  She'd called me a "kid!"  She'd been rude and cruel and vulgar, and had obviously been less than polite to Ryuen and Saihitei, whom I found myself liking very much despite the fact that we'd only just met, but...

I sighed, giving her one last longing glance.  She was wearing stylish black stretch pants and a blue tanktop, had a navy blue purse slung from one shoulder; her hair was long and straight and full, glistening like gold in the sunlight...

"Uh-oh."  It was Ryuen.  

Suddenly realizing I'd been staring for a great deal longer than I should've been, I blushed and turned back, faced my new companions with what I assumed was a sheepish smile.  "She...she wasn't very nice at all."

Ryuen was regarding me suspiciously, eyes narrowed and dark.  "No.  She wasn't."  He stared at me for a few more seconds, looking like he was about to grab me by the shoulders and shake me...but, then, abruptly, he brightened, and the smile was back on his lips.  "So!  What about Friday?  You coming?"  
  


I sighed.  "Sure, I suppose.  Where should I--"  
  


"Here," Ryuen interrupted, tugging a folded up piece of green paper from his pocket and depositing it in my hand.  "Write your email address on here, and we'll email you sometime before Friday to let you know where to go and when and stuff."

I did so, and--with the green paper tucked back into his jeans pocket--Ryuen gave me one last winking smile, and then took Saihitei by the hand and led him outside.  As they went, I couldn't help but wonder at what I thought I'd heard him say to Ayuru, and what--if I'd heard right--it could possibly mean.

_You've been pissed off ever since you got reborn as a girl..._

I shook my head, more confused than ever, and walked outside.  

~*~


	4. Chapter 3: What Is It About Blondes?

~*~

The next few days passed fairly normally.  Kristen and I were avoiding each other (or, at least, I was avoiding her), I spent most of my out-of-class hours in the library doing research or reading, and during my few trips to Starbucks for coffee, I neither ran into Ryuen or Saihitei--or Ayuru, for that matter.  Thus, by Friday morning, I was fairly sure that I'd somehow imagined the entire encounter, which was a pretty easy assumption to make, given how unreal it'd felt, anyway...

...that is, until I logged onto my hotmail account, brought up the uncooperative inbox, and discovered a message there from an unfamiliar email address.  Subject header?  "Party Details."

_Just delete it_, some frantic part of my subconscious pleaded.  _Just delete it, and forget you ever met them, and get on with your life.  You don't need them, for goodness' sake, Doukun!  They're weird! A-And, they...they've probably got horrible study skills!!  Besides, look at all the studying -you- have to do!_

I glanced to the pile of books on the edge of my mattress, and realized with a sinking feeling that I had no tests for another three weeks, no homework assignments due that I hadn't already completed, and nothing that could possibly fill my time but a paragraph that I needed to write for my British Literature class on Wilfred Owen.

I sighed.  _Well, subconscious?  What now?_

My subconscious, apparently, had no response for that, so I turned back to the computer screen, wrapped my fingers over the mouse, and clicked on the email.  

_Doukun,_

_Hey, how's it going??  This is Ryuen, if you couldn't tell. :)  Anyway, sorry it's taken so long to email.  Sai and I've been really busy with stuff and--well, I'll tell you all about it tonight if you want. :)  Anyway, I hope you're still planning on coming!  We've told our friends about you, and they're anxious to meet you--and, actually, I think you know one of them already.  Yuuki Miaka?  She says she had a Home Ec class with you in high school and you were cooking partners!_

I broke off in my reading, turned my head to the right and frowned at the wall.  Miaka?  Yuuki Miaka?  What on earth were the odds...?

_Anyway,_ _Miaka's really looking forward to seeing you again, and of course Sai and I are, too.  Sooo, the party starts tonight at seven, and we're gonna have it at Sai's because...well, his apartment is huge, and we all practically live there, anyway. :)  Meet me at six forty-five in the Student Union Building (the lobby, underneath the exit sign), and we'll head over there together.  Hope you can make it!    ~Ryuen_

I swallowed, skimming over the email one more time before closing out the window and settling back into my chair.

What was wrong with these people??  Why were they so fixated on convincing me to join their little social circle?  And, what if I'd had plans today, huh?  What then?  How did _they_ know that I wasn't some raving socialite who just _looked_ like an introvert?  Hmm?  How did _they_ know?  
  


I sighed, bringing a hand to my forehead and holding it there. 

_They know.  I don't know how, but...they know. _

And, no matter how strange it might be, I knew I was going to go tonight, just because...

I frowned.

_Because of what?  Hm, Doukun?  Are you so starved for a social life that you'd go out with complete strangers just because they actually spoke to you in a public place?_

...was I?  

I sighed, clicking on the "reply" button and waiting for the blank email to appear.

_Yes.  I am._

_How sad._

~*~

Six thirty found me in the Student Union building, pacing underneath the exit sign.  

Even though Ryuen--who had called me an hour or so ago to triple-check that I was coming and knew where to meet him--had assured me that this get-together wasn't anything to dress up for, it _was_ the first social outing I'd had for a long time, so I wanted to look nice.  Of course, I also wanted to look like I fit in, so I'd compromised, and was wearing my best khaki pants with a grey and black sweatshirt.  I'd also, in the efforts of looking like I belonged to the twenty-first century, elected to fix my hair like the lady who'd cut it had told me it was _supposed_ to be fixed.  I hadn't used any of the gel since I'd gotten it, and so of course I managed to make a complete mess of the bathroom counter before I actually got any of it into my hair.  I was fairly satisfied with the result, though, but I was also nervous that someone might think it was...a tad out of character for me.  

_Doukun, you realize, of course, that only three of the people at this get-together know you at all, one of whom hasn't seen you since tenth grade, while the other two have only met you once before.  How on earth will they know if you're being out of character or not?_

I frowned at that, conceding it to be correct, and leaned my back up against the wall by the door.

As the Student Union building had, in the nineteen fifties or so, been a hotel that the owners had eventually donated to the University, the rooms were all very posh and well-decorated.  This one, for example, was only a wide hallway that led to the elevators, the lounge, and the stairwell, but the floors were marble, the walls were made out of dark stone, and the few chairs that leaned against the walls were upholstered in plush red velvet.  Even the information desk seemed fashionable and well-made, the counter built of a smooth blond wood that gleamed in the fluorescent lights--probably varnished, my straining male vocabulary informed me.  

I was frowning at the wood, trying to remember just what it meant when something was "varnished," when I realized that the girl sitting at the information booth--which I was, in fact, standing just beside--had noticed me staring.  I blinked and looked up at her, feeling a flush creeping into my cheeks, and automatically shoved my hands into the pockets of my khakis.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asked.  There was a slight pause as she studied me, her eyes narrowing a little.  "Doukun, right?  I didn't recognize you with your hair like that."  She smiled.  "It looks nice.  You should wear it like that all the time."  
  


I stared at her with wide eyes, unable for some reason to figure out where I knew her from, or why she had bothered to note my name, or why in the world she...well, was _speaking_ to me--and so _nicely_!  She was pretty, although not quite so much as Kristen, and clearly no one had informed her that pretty girls were not supposed to be nice to me, that they were supposed to ignore me or pretend they didn't see me or call me "kid" and stomp away.  Even so, this girl--who, I noticed, was wearing almost the same stretchy, collared shirt Ryuen'd had on earlier, except that it was blue and not at all low-cut--was smiling at me pleasantly, her hands pressing against the countertop while she waited for me to answer.  

She was focused on me like Ryuen and Saihitei had been focused on me, I realized with a start.  And she was looking at me like she knew me.  

_Well, no kidding.  She called you by name, so she _must_ know you from somewhere.  _          

Even so, I couldn't say that I knew her, or that I could remember at all where I might have seen her before.  Of course, if it was a class--particularly one of those held in the lecture halls--there was a very good chance that I wouldn't have noticed her, given the sheer volume of students and my devotion to my studies.  But, that still wouldn't explain how she would know _me_...

Abruptly, the girl straightened, folded her arms over her chest, and lifted an eyebrow at me.  She was still smiling, showing off a little dimple in her cheek, and every now and then, a breeze from the door would hit into her and send her hair--which was honey-blond, and cut so it framed her face--sweeping up over her cheekbones.  "You don't remember me, do you?" she said, not sounding offended so much as amused.  "Well, that's okay; I'm not surprised.  Still, I thought maybe you would."  

Her eyes narrowed a little, and she walked over to the side of the information counter, pushed open a waist-high door cut into the wood, and started to move towards me.  She was a little overweight, I thought, doing a quick height-to-body-size analysis, but I couldn't help but think that that extra weight only made her look softer and prettier, like someone who could be held...

_For goodness' sake, stop it!  Haven't you had enough rejection for one week?_

Even so, I studied her as she approached me, noting that her skin was pale and very smooth, making her look a little like the porcelain dolls Mom always used to keep on the living room mantelpiece, and her eyes--which I'd been too far away to see before--were actually almost the same shade of green as mine were, except that there were some specks of blue in hers, matching nicely with her shirt.

She smiled again, showing me a row of teeth so straight that I assumed orthodontics had been involved, and leaned against the wall beside me.  "Still not ringing any _bells_, Doukun?"  
  


I was just about to shake my head and apologize when, abruptly, I had it.  It had been that subtle stress on the word 'bells' that had done it, and even though I was still a little fuzzy as to why it was that she had remembered my name, at least now I knew where I had seen her before.

"Concert band!" I exclaimed, grinning at her in victory.  "Last semester!  You played the bells!"  
  


"Yep," she said, smiling and folding her arms over her chest.  "You know, I could never figure out why they call them that.  I mean, they're not _really_ bells, right?  Just metal rungs that make a sound when you hit them.  But, hey.  No use arguing with band directors about stupid things like that, huh?  So, why'd you quit, anyway?  You were the best saxophone we had!"

I felt my cheeks warming and turned away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice in the poor lighting.  "Ah...well, I was only in band because I needed an extra credit last semester.  It was either that or...take a physical education class."  I shrugged, slipping my hands into my pockets again and wishing I could remember her name.  "After the semester was over, I didn't need that extra credit anymore, so I just...didn't take band."  I cast her a doubtful smile.  "And, I wasn't the best saxophone, although it's nice of you to say so.  Just hitting the notes right doesn't make a person a good musician."  
  


I felt her shrug beside me, marveled for a moment at the warmth of her shoulder against mine.  "Well, that's true, I suppose.  But, still."  She stepped away from the wall, apparently noticing the boy who was waiting at the information desk, and gave me another quick smile.  "If you can't hit the notes right, it doesn't matter what kind of creative genius you are.  No one's gonna wanna listen."  

And with that, she turned and hurried back to the desk, and a few seconds later was smiling kindly at the boy, giving him directions to the library, which was actually probably pretty unnecessary, since there were huge blue "LIBRARY" signs all over campus pointing in the right direction.  Even though she must've known that, she spoke to the boy like it was completely understandable to be confused about the library's location, and by the time she was finished, he was smiling at her and looking like he'd found his true love.

"Hey, thanks so much!" he said when she was done, reaching out a hand to her.  "I'm Steve."

She smiled politely and took his hand, but I couldn't help but notice that some of the warmth was gone from her voice when she spoke.  "I'm Mari," she said, still smiling but not as widely.  "With an i.  It's nice to meet you, Steve."

Steve, who I was beginning to think wasn't confused about where the library was at all since he had the look of a sophomore or junior--and it _was_ second semester, after all--didn't let go of her hand.  "Yeah, it's great to meet you, too.  Really great.  So, ah...when do you get off work?  Anytime soon?  Because, you know, they just opened up this great little place down the street, and I was, ya know, thinking that maybe you'd wanna go there with me or something...you know...and maybe after that, we could, ah...go back to my place--watch some movies, maybe, ah, have a little fun?"

_Have a...have a little FUN?_

Anger boiled inside of me, and I very nearly rolled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, stomped over there, and gave Steve a piece of my mind.  

...unfortunately, as I was pretty sure that that would result in him giving me a piece of his fist, since he was at least a foot and a half taller than me and probably twice my weight, I reconsidered fairly quickly.  But I _wanted_ to help, and I resolved that--if Steve didn't back down--I was going to go over there anyway, and hope that perhaps campus security would come in time to carry me over to the Student Health Center.

To my surprise, though, Mari didn't look like she _needed_ any help.  She just calmly peeled her fingers from his, gave him a cool smile, and shook her head.  "Thank you for offering, but I'm not really interested.  I'm afraid I already have plans tonight, and...well, frankly, I'm already seeing someone."

Steve shrugged and stepped back, looking a little put-off but not all that angry, and shoved his hands into his pockets.  "Okay," he said easily.  "Okay.  Well, ah...have a good night, then, I guess.  But, hey, if you and whoever-he-is ever break up and you're lookin' for a good time--"  
  


"I'll be sure to let you know," she promised, in a tone that suggested very little chance of that actually happening.  "Have a good evening."  
  


I shook my head, just tensing my muscles to go over there and tell her just how impressed I was with how she'd handled him, but just at that moment, the door beside me swung open, and Ryuen walked in.  A quick glance at the clock told me that he was at least eight or nine minutes early, but as I'd come fifteen minutes early, it didn't seem a prudent thing to mention.  

"Hey, Doukun!" Ryuen exclaimed, grinning and hurrying over to me.  "You made it!"

I smiled, marveling again at how much energy this one person seemed capable of projecting.  "Hi."

Ryuen, who looked somehow incomplete without Saihitei standing beside him, was wearing a black tank top with a purple dress shirt over it, the buttons only fastened to about the middle of his chest.  The shirt matched eerily with his hair, which he'd plaited into a loose braid and let hang down his back, and the fabric rustled a little while he moved, the noise somehow bringing up the image in my mind of brightly-colored skirts, whispering against each other like autumn leaves...

I snapped out of the reverie when I felt something against my head; I glanced up to see Ryuen's fingers touching experimentally at my hair, his lips twisting up into a smile.  "Hey, your hair looks great!  The spikes really suit you."  
  


Flushing, I tried to take a step back and realized I was leaning against the wall.  The result was that I stumbled and almost fell, and from the brief snicker that sounded from my right, Mari had witnessed it.  

_Wonderful._

"Anyway," Ryuen went on, smiling almost apologetically and now keeping his hands to himself, "are you ready to go?  It's going to be a bit of a walk, I'm afraid, but at least it's warm out.  Oh, and Saihitei would've come along, but since it's his apartment, he thought it'd be better to stay there.  No one's there yet, but he was worried that Miaka might show up early, since she likes to get a head start on the snacks, and so he decided to stay."

From the scattered memories I had of Miaka in home ec, I was inclined to agree that this had been a wise, wise decision.  Smiling and feeling a little more comfortable, mostly because of Ryuen's warm personality, I cast one brief farewell nod at Mari, then turned and started to walk towards the door.  Ryuen followed, but not before spending a long moment staring back at Mari, frowning like he was trying to figure something out.

"Do you know her?" he asked me when we got outside, falling into step beside me.

I glanced at him, surprised at the note of confusion in his voice, and spent a few seconds considering my answer before speaking.  "Ah...well, sort of.  We were in concert band together last semester."  There was something in his voice...  I frowned.  "Do _you_ know her?"

"I don't...think I do," he replied, sounding truly puzzled.  "But she feels like..."  He trailed off, then shook his head and flashed me a quick grin.  "Probably just seen her around campus.  Anyway, I'm glad you decided to come.  I have a feeling you're going to fit right in."

"Why do you say that?"  
  


"Well," he said slowly, "it's just...a feeling I get."  He smiled.  "Come on, we'd better walk a little faster.  If we don't hurry, there won't be anything left to eat by the time we get there."

Shrugging and sliding my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt, I followed.  

~*~

**AN:**  Sorry for the lonnnnnnnng delay between the second and third chapters. ^^;;  I actually had the first part of this written immediately after the second part was finished, but the rest of it was a little slower in coming.  Anyway, thanks to all who have reviewed and will review; I'll do my best to keep the updates coming with more regularity in the future!  


	5. Chapter 4: Glomped

~*~

Ryuen, I discovered on the way to Sai's apartment, was what my mother would call "chatty."  He started talking as soon as we left the Student Union building, and kept on talking just about the whole way to our destination.  Not that I minded, of course; he seemed like a very nice person, and one of the first people who'd made a move towards being my friend since I'd started college.  But...  I frowned.  But, no matter how much I liked him, and no matter how at ease his talking should've put me, I still couldn't get it out of my head that there was something _strange_ about him, and I had a feeling that until I figured out what that something was, I wasn't going to be able to feel entirely comfortable around him.

Something latched onto my hand; I snapped out of my thoughts just as Ryuen tugged me across a busy street and onto a poorly-illuminated, empty strip of sidewalk.  He was still talking, not looking at me despite his grip on my hand, and I realized with some embarrassment that I hadn't been paying attention at all to what he'd been saying.  With an effort, I drew myself out of my thoughts and focused on each word as he spoke it, hoping that perhaps context clues would give me some hint of whatever he'd said that I'd missed.

"...didn't even want to _try_ it," he was saying, grinning at me like he was telling a joke, "so we put some of those flotation rings on his arms and threw him in there, but he thrashed around so much that the rings fell off, and we had to fish him out with a pool skimmer."  
  


He was telling me, I realized, stories about his friends--the friends I was supposed to be meeting in just a few minutes.  An unexpected flutter of fear rippled into my stomach, and I clasped my hands over it as if that might help.  It didn't, of course, but it made me feel like I was doing something, at least.  

"That's Genrou," he continued, nodding at me--I had the sudden impression that I should've been taking notes, or at least paying closer attention.  "He and Taka--that's Miaka's boyfriend, the one who's obsessed with money--will seem like they don't like each other very much, but don't let that fool you.  They're just about as close as Sai and I are, except..."  A hint of a flush crept into his cheeks.  "Well, not in exactly the same way.  Anyway, let's see.  I already told you about Houjun, and Miaka and Sai you know, and I told you about Genrou and Taka...  Oh.  I guess that's it.  Well, now you know everybody, at least a little bit.  But don't worry if you can't remember it all, because it is a lot to r--" 

"That's..."  My voice came almost before I realized I was speaking.  "That's only six."  
  


Ryuen skidded to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, released my hand, and turned around to look at me.  "What?"  
  


I was frowning, although I couldn't quite understand why.  "That's only six," I repeated.  "Didn't you say there were seven?"

Ryuen stared at me for a minute in silence, then shook his head a little; pieces of violet hair clung to his cheek with the movement.  "I...I never said anything about there being seven," he said slowly.  "But...there _will_ be seven, once we get there.  Miaka, Taka, me, Sai, Genrou, Houjun, and you.  That's...that's seven."

Common sense told me to shut my mouth right then and keep it closed, particularly since I was babbling on about something Ryuen probably hadn't even _mentioned_, but...  The frown wouldn't go away.  "But even with me, there'll only be six," I said.  My voice sounded strange in my own ears, like it belonged to someone else.  "One is missing."  
  


_One is missing?  What the hell are you TALKING about, Doukun?!  Didn't you hear him?  Can't you _count?  _There'll be seven people there when you get there.  ...and, what's the obsession with seven, anyway??_

_...wait.  Could this be some strange manifestation of a psychological importance to the number seven?  Seven sins...seven seas?  Seven...ah...seven days in a week?  Seven seconds since you said anything that made sense at ALL?_

_See?  This is why you don't socialize.  You end up saying strange things and scaring everyone away._

But, Ryuen didn't seem scared.  He didn't look at me as if he thought I was crazy, or even frown at me and ask what in the world I was talking about.  Instead, he just turned away and started to walk again, and from the glimpse of his face that I managed to catch, he didn't look angry or afraid or even confused.  He just looked...amazed.  "You're right," I heard him murmur.  "One _is_ missing."

Confused as I was, I didn't bother to ask him what he was talking about, since it would most likely seem a little strange considering what I'd just been saying, and only a few minutes later--minutes we passed in silence, since what I'd said had seemingly been enough to douse even Ryuen's good spirits--we came to a stop at a large white building.

"Well," said Ryuen, turning around to flash me a weary smile, "here we are.  This is Sai's apartment building."  The smile turned into a grin; despite myself, it made me feel a little more at ease.  "Better hold your breath until we get inside.  You might stir up some dirt and get it on the walls."

With a slight chuckle that sounded more like a giggle, I followed.  And, even though I could sense that Ryuen loved Saihitei as dearly as anyone _could_ love someone, it seemed like the economic differences between the two was at least a little bit of a rift in their relationship.  Not to say that Ryuen sounded bitter, and he _was_ completely right--the building was all white, down to every last board and panel, but I couldn't see even so much as a _spot_ of dirt on any of it.  I had the sudden image of a giant tarp being thrown over the place every night to keep it so pristine, but dismissed that with little more than a smirk and a bit of mental chiding.

But, even so...

I cast a quick glance at Ryuen, who was hurrying up the sidewalk a little ahead of me, and what I could see of his face seemed pinched, somehow.  Well, maybe not pinched.  Maybe...I don't know.  But something about it didn't seem natural.  There were two many lines around his mouth, for one thing, and I could tell from the slight bulge at the back of his jaw that he was clenching his teeth, although for what reason, I really had no idea.  I let myself believe, for a moment, that perhaps his disdain for the building extended to Saihitei's apparent wealth, and that maybe the two weren't quite as in love as I'd thought...but, I dismissed it almost as quickly.  No.  No, there was something else.  Something was different about him, now, and although I certainly didn't want to believe that it might have something to do with me, it was a conclusion I couldn't help but come to.

_Well, no wonder, the way you were blabbering about 'seven' a few minutes ago.  He probably thinks you're insane.  He's probably wondering right now how he can get you away from here without sounding rude.  Just wait.  Just wait, Doukun.  In a minute, he'll turn around and tell you that he just remembered, but Saihitei only has enough food for six people, and so you'll have to leave.  Just wait.  _

_You've done it again, genius.  You've lost another one._

Swiftly commanding the voice in my head to be quiet, I drew a deep breath and stretched out to grab Ryuen's sleeve.  We were just coming up on the front door--doors, actually, since there were two, framed in white and clear with spotless glass in the center--but he stopped at my touch, and I realized with a bit of a shock that there was actually a _doorman_ in this apartment, waiting just inside, watching us.  Frowning at the man, who was lifting his bushy white eyebrows at me, I tugged Ryuen a little off the sidewalk and into the grass.  

He was staring at me quizzically, one eyebrow slightly lifted, but I discovered that he didn't look upset, or even relieved.  He just looked...curious.  "Doukun?"

Just like that, I swallowed the excuse I'd been about to give.  It'd seemed like a good and proper thing to do--offer an excuse before I could be sent away, thus saving all involved the embarrassment of vocalizing that I wasn't wanted...but, I was suddenly unsure as to whether or not I really _wasn't_ wanted.  Despite my lack of socialization over the last few years, I was something of an expert at people-watching, so I knew something about reading people's moods by their expressions.  Ryuen still looked a little uncomfortable, and his jaw was still clenched as if he was trying to steel himself against something, but I couldn't bring myself to think that it had anything to do with me coming to the party.  In fact...

I frowned.  "Can I ask you a question?"

He shrugged easily; the tension melted from his face as quickly as if it'd never been there, and suddenly he was just Ryuen again. "Sure."  He winked.  "But make it fast.  I wasn't kidding about Miaka eating all the food."  
  


I watched him for a moment, trying to find the words, and then just let out a breath and said whatever came into my head.  "Well...it's just that..."  Sighing, I slipped my hands self-consciously into my sweatshirt pockets and let my eyes fall to the ground.  "Why did you invite me?  Really.  Why did you?  I...I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate it, or that I don't want to come, but..."  I glanced up at him through the top of my vision and found him regarding me with strangely-sad eyes.  "Why me?"

The sad eyes stayed locked on mine for a heartbeat, and then, without any warning at all, Ryuen stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.  For a minute, I was so startled that I couldn't even manage to sputter out a shocked yelp; when I finally _could_ speak, I found with just as much surprise that I didn't want to.  Ryuen's arms were strong, reminding me of the last arms that had held me like this, a long, long time ago--my father's.  And, strangely enough, it was the same kind of embrace, and not one that I could ever imagine someone giving to someone they'd just met.  It was the hug you give to a good friend, or to a son, or maybe even to a younger brother.  The tears formed in my eyes almost without me realizing them; I was more than a little startled when I felt the cool moisture on my cheeks.

"Doukun," Ryuen said softly, "I promise, I'll explain everything after you meet everyone.  Until then, all I can say is--"  He pulled back from me, and I saw that there were tears in his eyes, too, glistening against the warm smile on his lips.  "--you're not as insignificant as you like to think you are."  He grinned again, wiping at his eyes.  "Now, come on.  Let's get inside.  Besides, the doorman's staring."  
  


With a little laugh I found that he was right, and for the first time since I'd met this boy, only a few days earlier, I felt like maybe it hadn't been such an accident that he'd sat down at my table, after all.  Most of this went out of my head, however, as suddenly there came a cry from somewhere off to our left, and before I was entirely sure what was happening, I was lying on my back on the ground, staring up into a hazy sky with something heavy on my chest.  Dizzily, I tried to force my eyes to focus on the shape above me, blotting out the starlight like some madman's doomsday device, but it wasn't until I heard Ryuen's voice that I realized just what had plowed me over.

"Miaaaaaka!" Ryuen shouted, sounding as if he was trying to decide whether to be angry or amused.  "Get off of him!  Doukun, are you all right?  She didn't hurt you, did she?"

The something on my chest shifted a little, leaning back enough so that I could, indeed, make out two meatball-shaped buns and green eyes that were opened just a _little_ too widely.  "Oh, don't be silly, N--  Don't be silly, Ryuen!" she exclaimed a little breathlessly.  "I didn't hurt him!  I'm just happy to see him!"  Suddenly seeming to realize that I was, indeed, lying on my back beneath her, Miaka grinned and looked down at me.  "I'm so happy to see you!" she repeated for my benefit.  "It's been such a long time, and now here you are!  I'm so happy!"  
  


"Ah, Miaka..."  Ryuen, who I sensed was standing just a little behind me, gave what sounded like an exasperated sigh, but I could tell that he was smiling.  "Wouldn't you be even happier to see him on his _feet?_"  
  


Showing strength that I couldn't imagine someone of her height and bodyweight possessing, Miaka got a grip on my collar and peeled me up off the ground; my knees were a little unsteady when she let go, mostly because I was still shaking from the considerable shock of being glomped off my feet, and so I nearly fell _again_ because of that.  Luckily, though, Ryuen grabbed me in time, and while I was regaining my footing, I noticed for the first time that the three of us weren't alone.  There, standing at the edge of the street peering concernedly at a parking meter, was a tall man--probably not much older than Ryuen or Saihitei, but aged by the utterly-serious look on his face--with shaggy dark hair and a grey polo shirt on.

Miaka must've noticed my stare, because she put her hands on her hips and took a few steps towards the street.  "Taka, come on!  Come say hi to Doukun!"

As he came towards us, a flicker of something like recognition flared in his eyes, and even though it sounds strange, when he opened his mouth to say my name, I almost thought that perhaps he was going to say something else.  Of course, he didn't, and I felt silly for even thinking that he might.

"Doukun," he said warmly, reaching forward to clasp my hand briefly in his own.  "It's good to...to finally meet you.  Miaka's told me a lot about you."  
  


"It's good to meet you, too," I returned automatically.  

"Well," Ryuen said with a slightly-nervous grin, rocking back and forth on his heels as Taka released my hand.  "Shouldn't we all be heading inside?"        

"Yeah!" Miaka squealed.  "Let's go!  Come on, Doukun!"  And before I could even open my mouth, she'd rushed to my side and glomped herself onto my arm, and only a second later, she was leading me towards those glassy double doors, Ryuen and Taka following just behind us.

~*~

**Notes:**  Belated birthday wishes to Roku-chan ^______^., and vast apologies to everyone who reads this fic, as this chapter has been sitting in my computer since June, but I somehow managed to forget that it was there!! ^_^;;;;;;;;;;   Next chapter:  Doukun FINALLY gets to meet the other seishi! ^__^.


	6. Chapter 5: Redheads and Hair Gel and So...

~*~

To say that Saihitei's apartment building was "nice" would've been a vast understatement.  Not only was there a doorman, but a lobby that seemed more fitting of a five-star hotel chain, complete with green velvet couches, intricate tapestries on the walls, and a _fountain._  To top it off, the doorman had a very proper Oxford-English accent, and when he stepped back to let us in, he swept the hat off his head, held it to his chest, and said, "Good evening, sir.  Sir.  Sir.  Madam."  
  


Miaka managed a giggled, "G-G-Good evening," and given the fact that she was still clinging to my bicep, her laughter buzzed against me, tickling my arm.  

Ryuen, who I assumed was here a great deal more often than either Miaka or Taka, led us across the polished marble floor, past the couches, and finally to the elevators, where he stopped and pressed his finger to the UP button.  Only a moment later, the second of the two elevators--both of which were shielded by glistening silver doors and had old-fashioned, clock-like floor indicators above them--chimed, and the doors creaked open.  

Inside, I was only minorly surprised to find a man in a maroon uniform similar to the doorman's; he had long white mustaches that twitched as he watched us, and bushy brows that nearly obscured his eyes.  "Good evening, sir.  Sir.  Sir.  Madam," he said.  His voice was softer than the doorman's, but the tone a bit brisker; if his entire job was to stand in a box and push buttons for people, I didn't think I could blame him for it.  "What floor, please?"

"Eight," Ryuen replied.  When I turned to look at him, thinking he sounded a little strange, I saw that he stood in the very back of the elevator, gripping the silvery metal bar that jutted out from the wall with white-knuckled hands.  The moment we started drifting upwards, he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed visibly.  I was just about to ask him if he was feeling all right when Miaka, who had seemingly noticed me watching him, gave my arm a little shake to get my attention.

"Ne, he'll be all right," she confided in a whisper--that everyone in the elevator could hear, I should mention.  "Ryu-chan doesn't like elevators much.  Usually he takes the stairs, but tonight he's making an exception just for _you_--isn't that nice of him??  Ryu-chan's so nice!"

He _was_ nice, but...  Frowning, I glanced back at him and found his jaw clenched in much the same manner as it had been outside, face paler than usual.  

_Was this what was bothering him out there?  That he was going to have to ride in the elevator?  But..._

"Wait," I said quietly, returning my gaze to Miaka, "he usually takes the _stairs?_  Up _eight_ flights?"

Behind me, Ryuen drew a ragged breath; his fingers trembled around the bar, although whether it was because he was gripping it so tightly or because all of him was shaking, I couldn't tell.  "Sure do," he answered in a pinched voice.  "It's not...so bad.  It's only the last few flights that are difficult, but if you--"  

The elevator shuddered to a halt; Ryuen gave a little yelp and opened his eyes, shoulder blades shoved back against the wall.  As the realization that we'd reached our destination trickled into his eyes, however, he regained his composure somewhat, let out a deep and shuddering sigh, and released the bar.  Taka moved immediately to his side to help him out of the elevator, and it wasn't until we stood on solid ground again that Ryuen finished his sentence.

"If you pace yourself," he concluded a bit breathlessly, "it's not hard at all."

All confusion over Ryuen's phobia vanished from my mind right then as, with a sensation much akin to having the wind knocked out of me, I realized that we were _here_.  We were on floor eight, with its stylish red carpeting and smooth beige walls, and in just a few moments, I was going to be meeting Ryuen's friends.  I was going to be going into a near-stranger's apartment and meeting three new people--

_Two.  Two!!  Why can't you get that into your head?!  You're a math genius, for crying out loud!  Act like it!_

--and being forced to socialize with them.  My stomach turned a cartwheel at that thought, but with Miaka so near to me, watching me with those big, smiling green eyes, I couldn't very well do anything about it.  So, I just stood there, waiting for Ryuen to get his land legs back, and tried not to think about how unbelievably afraid I was.

_What if they hate me?  What if I can't think of anything to say?  What if they think I'm stupid?  What if I embarrass Ryuen and he never wants to see me again?  What if I accidentally spill something?  What if I choke on my punch?  ..my God, what if they don't have punch?  What if they have alcohol??  This is a college party, after all--why _wouldn't_ they have alcohol?  What if Ryuen offers me some and thinks I'm dumb for not having any?  Ahhhhhh, what if they have drugs there?!  _  
  


My breathing, I realized, had been growing quicker with each escalating thought; it was an effort to slow it down, but I did so, mainly because Miaka was peering at me concernedly, and even Ryuen and Taka seemed to be oddly focused on my reactions.  

_Okay, look, you have to calm down.  If you don't, you're just going to make an idiot out of yourself, and while you're really getting quite proficient at doing that sort of thing, you do _not _want to do it now.  Don't mess this up, Doukun.  For whatever reason, these people are trying to be friendly to you, and if you watch yourself and don't do anything stupid or weird, they might be your friends.  Wouldn't it be nice to have friends?  Granted, your grade point average might suffer a point or two if you were to devote less time to your studies...but, damn it, that's not important!  This is important!  Having friends, being important to people--having people who are important to you!  THAT is what's important!_

_So, suck it up, Doukun.  Suck it up, and go in there, and make some friends.  _

My trembling had stopped, and my breathing came in slower, less panicky washes of air.  Miaka--still on my arm--and Taka and Ryuen--one on either side of me, Taka nearest to Miaka--were all looking at me, studying my face and probably trying to figure out what to say.  For once, I decided to take the initiative; why not start a new life with a new attitude?  

_And if you screw it up, you'll still be able to get back to your room in time for that CNN special.  Fantastic._

"I'm ready," I said firmly.  Clasping my hands in front of my sweatshirt, I glanced over my left shoulder and nodded at Ryuen.  "Let's go."

~*~

Despite it being Saihitei's apartment, Saihitei himself did not answer the door when Ryuen knocked.  Instead, when the door swung inward, it was a tall, slender guy--a little older than Saihitei, probably around mid-twenties--with an easy smile and bluish hair.  He was wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt and loose black tie, along with loafers and olive-colored khakis, but it wasn't the way he was dressed that caught my attention.  It was his hair.  Nowhere in my study of physics and related fields had I seen _anything_ to suggest that hair could be made to stick up in the air like that; his bangs, longer than the rest of his hair--which was cropped fairly close to his head--soared high above his forehead, drooping only a bit near the top. 

Noticing my stare, he lifted a hand to them and gave the airborn bangs a little pat.  "They're not always like this no da," he said apologetically.  My memories of the Japanese lessons I'd had in high school informed me that "no da" didn't have a literal translation into English--but why on earth was this guy using it?  I shook my head inwardly.  Maybe I'd misheard. 

"Tonight's a...err...special occasion no da!"

_Maybe not._

_Why would you even assume that he was using the Japanese "no da," anyway?  He could very well have some sort of speech impediment, or perhaps be using the AMERICAN "no duh."  Do you think?  Perhaps?? _

_...but, the American "no duh" doesn't make much sense in this context, and the Japanese does.  But why in the world would he be using that in casual conversation in ENGLISH? _

Realizing--mainly from Miaka's sudden nudge of my arm--that I'd been standing there in silence, just staring at the man's bangs, I cleared my throat and directed my gaze to his eyes, instead.  ...in doing so, I found to my surprise that only one of those eyes was _real_.  The left, around which I could see the very faint imprint of a scar, was actually a _glass eye_--my Aunt Milly, after a weedwhacker accident when I was twelve, had been given a glass eye, so I knew the signs fairly well.  

Feeling a flash of sympathy for this cheery, no-da-ing man and his glass eye, I held out a hand and waited as he wrapped his larger fingers around mine.  "Hello," I said politely.  "I'm Ou Doukun.  It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ri Houjun," he replied, giving my hand a firm but gentle shake--which was nice.  It wasn't something I was particularly proud of, but my hands had always been oddly-sensitive, and most people tended to squeeze too hard when we shook.  Not Houjun, though, and it was nice, not having to be the one to end a handshake just because I was about to cry out in pain.  "And it's a pleasure to meet you, too, no da."  
  


"How'd you get stuck on door-opening duty?" Ryuen asked wryly, throwing a wink at Houjun. 

Taka's eyes were wide.  "And how much gel did you have to use to get your hair to do that?  It must've cost you a fortune!"

Houjun chuckled, a low, pleasant sound amidst the background noise from the apartment--which, now that I paid attention to it, I could make out as the distinctive theme music of "Friends," the low and soothing baritone of Saihitei's voice, and--cutting through it all--loud, near-obnoxious laughter that just about drowned out all other sound.

"To answer your question," he answered, nodding at Ryuen, "I volunteered."  He smiled ruefully.  "Besides no da, Genrou was starting to win at Trivial Pursuit, and he can be--"  Houjun cast a glance over his shoulder, where the obnoxious laughter continued.  "--a little loud when he's winning."  The one-eyed gaze flickered to Taka.  "And, it didn't take _that_ much no da--just a bottle of gel and half a can of hairspray."

Ryuen burst out laughing, a sound I appreciated all the more after how reserved he'd been in the elevator, and Miaka--who'd finally opted to let go of my arm--slid forward to give Houjun a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.  

"It's so good to see you again, Houjun!" she chirped, taking the man's hand into her own and giving it a squeeze.  "I'm really glad you could make it tonight."  
  


Houjun smiled--but, then, he'd never really _stopped_ smiling, so I suppose it would be more accurate to say that his smile grew wider.  "I wouldn't have missed this for the world," he murmured, bringing his free hand down to clasp over his and Miaka's fingers.  

"Hey, what the fuck?!" came a loud, grating male voice from inside the apartment.  "Ya gonna bring 'em in, Houjun, or are ya fuckin' gonna stand out in the hall all night?"

I couldn't help it--my eyes went wide at the blatant vulgarity, and as luck would have it, it didn't go unnoticed.  Houjun chuckled again, and--after releasing Miaka's hand--said brightly, "Don't worry, no da!  Genrou only swears that much when he's awake--and after how much sleep he got last night, he won't last long no da!"

Flushing at having my relative innocence exposed for all to see, I opened my mouth to say something--but before I could, Miaka had grabbed my arm and started bouncing up and down.

"Come on, come on!" she squealed.  "Let's go inside!  You have to meet everybody at once!"

Frowning at her odd phrasing--_everybody at once?_--I nonetheless gave a weak little nod and let myself be herded through the door.  Houjun, for his part, stepped back in time to avoid being plowed over by the enthusiastic Miaka, and so my first view of the apartment was unobstructed by even a hint of gravity-defying bangs.

The breath seemed caught in my lungs.  

It was huge, for one thing, despite the deceptively-small amount of space between doors in the hallway; Miaka and I were currently standing on the mat just inside the door, onto which apparently all shoes were to be deposited.  Glancing at the immaculate interior, I could see why.  

To the right, clearly, was the kitchen and dining room area, and the only portion of floor in the place that was covered in tile rather than plush beige carpeting.  Against that right-most wall there was a long counter with a sink, cupboards, and a few oaken drawers; a microwave sat in a cubby built into the wall above the counter, and a full-sized refrigerator hummed just beside it.  Past the counter--and just about in the center of that square of black and white tile--was an oval-shaped table of the same dark oak as the drawers, above which dangled a Tiffany light, the half-sphere of colored glass shooting little rainbows onto the wood.

To the left, I gathered, was the living area; the beige carpeting swept from the edge of the kitchen tile to each pristine white wall, along which had been hung a few gilt-framed oil paintings, none of which I could make out very well from where I stood.  Between two of those paintings, however, there were sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony, on which I could see a table, chairs, and a few potted plants.  

Finally, I let my eye drift to the center of the living area, where Saihitei and Genrou--and the TV--waited.  The entertainment center--a sturdy wooden structure that was, again, of that same dark oak--rested against the wall opposite to the front door.  Aside from the T.V., I could make out a VCR, DVD player, Playstation, and stereo inside the thing; two wide speakers rested on either side of it.  Arrayed tastefully around the entertainment center was a variety of brown suede furniture.  A long, curving couch sat facing the television, a glass coffee table stretching out in front of it, while two reclining arm chairs flanked the couch, each angled to face the entertainment center.  About five or six feet to the left of all this, facing the far corner, sat a sleek Baby Grand piano, which the light of the lamps--tall, amber-hued floor lamps on either side of the entertainment center--set to glistening.

Gaping as I was, I still noticed Miaka and the others--even Houjun, which seemed rather strange given that he'd already been inside--removing their shoes and piling them to one side of the door, so I bent to remove my own.  

"Isn't it _gorgeous_?" Miaka whispered to me as we both worked at our laces.  Glancing over at her, I found her eyes wide and excited, but couldn't help but think that it had to do with slightly more than the interior of Saihitei's apartment.  

Before I'd had much chance to think on that, however, and just as I'd deposited my sneakers beside Ryuen's Keds, I heard the rustle of socks on carpeting, and Saihitei was coming towards us.  It was strange, seeing this regal man in his socks--but the rest of him more than made up for the lack of dignity the improper footwear created.  His hair--which I'd only ever seen loose, flooding down over his broad shoulders--had been tugged up onto the top of his head in a loose bun, leaving only a handful of strands dangling down over his forehead.  He wore a stylish red blazer adorned with gold buttons, beneath which I could see a white dress shirt and orange- and red-striped tie, and again, I had that inexplicable impression of imperial presence when looking at him.  There was just something _about_ him...  

"Hello again," he said, granting me a kind and regal nod.  Before I'd had the chance to return the greeting, however, Ryuen had swept forward and wrapped his arm around the man's neck; they shared a quick kiss of greeting before Ryuen stepped back.

Saihitei was just turning back to us, apparently readying himself to greet Miaka and Taka more properly, when abruptly his eyes went wide and he turned back to Ryuen.  "Sweetheart, did you take the _elevator_?" he breathed.

Smiling, Miaka stepped forward and hugged Ryuen's arm; cheek to his shoulder, she answered, "Hai, he did.  Just as brave as ever, ne?"

Ryuen, who was suddenly blushing madly, cast Miaka a dark glance.  "I-I wouldn't call it 'brave.'  It's just an elevator."

"Shit, Ryuen, ya took the elevator?"  Glancing up, I saw the source of the voice--a gangly red-head in a ratty T-shirt and equally-ratty jeans--loping towards us from the couch.  A Trivial Pursuit card was squeezed between the index finger and thumb of his right hand, and a variety of chains hung from his neck, jangling as he moved.  "Fuckin' didn't think ya had it in ya!"

I struggled for a moment to put a name to the face.  I knew that Ryuen had told me about this person--I remembered in particular a tale involving a pool skimmer--but no matter how deeply I searched my brain, I couldn't come up with a name.  And Houjun had _just said it_ a few moments ago, too!  Brow furrowing, I studied the boy with his wild fiery hair and easy, swaggering stride; I was _fairly_ sure that his name began with a T, but try as I might, I couldn't come up with any more than that.

The red-head had come to a halt beside Saihitei, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and amber eyes drifting from face to face--and then finally coming to a halt on me.  "Hey," he said, giving me a nod.  "Good ta see ya."

A little flustered, particularly since I was starting to fear that no one was going to properly introduce us, thus meaning that I would be left to my own devices to divine his name, I nonetheless nodded.  "It's nice to meet you."

A short silence fell . . . and, very slowly, I realized that everyone had turned to stare at me.

I glanced from one to the other, frowning more deeply than ever, and wondering if perhaps I had something on my face.  "Ah..."  I swallowed.  "I-Is something wrong?"

No one said anything for a long moment, just standing there, staring at me, looking as if they were _waiting_ for something...and then Ryuen gave a short, too-loud laugh and clapped a hand on my shoulder.  "O-Oh, it's nothing!" he assured me.  "C'mon, let's go sit down.  I bet you're _great_ at Trivial Pursuit, huh, Doukun?"  
  


As Ryuen led me to the couch, an arm around my shoulder and his free hand intertwined with Saihitei's, I _distinctly_ heard the red-head whisper, "What the fuck, 'Chiri?  Why doesn't he remember?"

...but then Miaka was chattering in my ear about snacks and movies and reminding me of the good times we'd had in Home Ec, and the strange snippet of conversation was forgotten.  

~*~


	7. Chapter 6: The Complex Adventures of Mi...

~*~

"Okay," said Taka, "hypothetical situation."

We were clustered around the coffee table, Ryuen, Saihitei, Miaka, and I on the long couch, Houjun and Taka in the recliners, and Genrou--whose name I'd finally remembered--sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Genrou, I'd discovered, was actually quite talented at Trivial Pursuit, despite the fact that his appearance--and relaxed, hardly-grammatical speech--seemed more fitting of some hoodlum who'd dropped out of high school.  But, no, he actually answered the majority of his questions correctly, even one on Greek Literature, which _really_ surprised me.  Of course, I won the game, anyway (I really don't like to brag, but I've never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit in my life), but Genrou came in a close second, and Houjun a near third.

Forcing my thoughts away from the game, which had only just ended with some cheering and celebratory popcorn throwing, I let my gaze fall on Taka.  I'd thought he was talking to everyone, but strangely, his eyes were only on me.  

"O-Okay," I managed, unnerved to find--once again--everyone staring at me.  Well, with the notable exception of Miaka.  She had eyes only for the popcorn bowl, and was shoving the fluffy kernels into her mouth so quickly that I swear her hands blurred.

Taka cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.  To his far right, the movie we'd had on in the background--one of the Marx Brothers movies, which Genrou let out a guffaw of laughter at every few minutes--charged bravely onward, at the moment showing a solemn Harpo Marx lip-synching to a record player tied on his back.  

"Okay," Taka said again, "so I, ah . . . I have this friend, and he's a writing major.  And he's writing this story, but he can't figure something out and he asked me to, ah . . . well, to ask you guys about it--"  His gaze suddenly flickered to everyone, not just me.  "--and see if you can help him out."

"Well," said Ryuen enthusiastically, "we'll certainly try."  
  


Sai, who had his arm around Ryuen's shoulders, gave a small nod.  "Yes, Taka, we'd be glad to assist your friend."

Genrou burst out laughing, poking a finger at the T.V., but Taka didn't even seem to notice.  His attention was on his hands, and from the way he was chewing on his lip, he seemed to be struggling to find the correct phrasing.

"Okay, so in my friend's story," he began slowly, "there's this . . . book."

_A story about a book?  _I frowned.  _And this person is a writing major?_

"So, the story starts with these two girls, ah-- "  For some reason, his gaze flickered to Miaka, who had actually stopped eating to gape at him.  "--M-Mimi and Yuuuu...Yolanda."  Miaka groaned, but Taka seemed to be ignoring her.  "Anyway, so Mimi and Yolanda find the book in this library, and when they start reading from it, it transports them into another world."  
  


"Gee, Taka," Miaka said, speaking overly-slowly, "I really hope you're not going to tell us your friend's _entire story_, because that might take a _really long time_..."

"Nonono," Taka assured her.  "I'm going to summarize, don't worry.  Okay, so the two girls get transported into the other world--which looks a lot like Ancient China--and Mimi finds out that she's a priestess for the god Suzaku, and that she has to find seven special warriors so she can call that god and make three wishes."  
  


"Isn't that a little clichéd?" I offered hesitantly.  "Three wishes, I mean?"  
  


Taka blinked at me for a few seconds, but finally shrugged.  "Y-Yeah, I guess it is.  But, anyway, so Mimi gathers up all the warriors and they call the god, and she gets sent back to her world.  But, she was in love with one of the warriors, a very strong, good-looking guy named Tamahome, but she couldn't be with him since they were from different worlds.  Tamahome was able to be reborn in her world, though, so they got to be together in the end.  Anyway, so a little while later, Mimi realized that _all_ the warriors had been reborn into her world, but none of them remembered who they had been.  The first one she met was the youngest of the warriors, Ch..."  He hesitated.  "Chiriko, but he didn't remember and so Mimi thought he never could.  But a few months later, Mimi met two other warriors, Nuriko and Hotohori, and they _did _remember--but only when all four of them were together.  So, Mimi figured out that maybe the warriors would only remember if they were all together, and so she started looking for Chiriko again, because she really wanted him to remember.  But...well, while she was looking for Chiriko, she and Tamahome found two more warriors, Tasuki and Chichiri, and once they all got together--Mimi, Tamahome, Nuriko, Hotohori, Tasuki, and Chichiri--they both remembered.  Soooooo, anyway, finally Mimi found Chiriko again, but when she brought him together with all of the warriors, he _didn't_ remember."  

Taka leaned forward in his chair, staring at me questioningly.  "So, why doesn't he remember?  Why can all the others remember when they come together, but Chiriko can't?"

"Well," I said slowly, chewing on my lower lip, "could it be that the person they've found really _isn't_ the reincarnation of Chiriko?"

"No," Miaka said immediately.

"No," Taka agreed, "they're sure that it's him. He looks exactly the same, acts exactly the same--they're sure it's him."

I glanced at the others, thinking that perhaps they might want to contribute to the discussion, but none of them seemed ready to speak.  As a matter of fact, they were all staring expectantly and almost hopefully at me, and I felt a nervous tingle starting to creep up my back.  Turning back to Taka, I frowned and struggled to think logically.

_Okay.  Okay, so when the warriors get together, they remember.  But, obviously _all_ the warriors don't have to be there, because if that was the case, then none of them would remember until all seven were there.  So, why can't Chiriko remember?  And why didn't he remember when he met Mimi in the first place?  I guess it was because Tamahome wasn't there, but..._

"When...when Mimi and Tamahome met Nuriko and Hotohori--"  It seemed remarkably strange to me that I could remember these odd foreign names, but I was too immersed in my logic to give it much thought.  "--did they remember right away?"  
  


Miaka and Taka exchanged glances.  "Well, they met Nuriko first," Taka explained, "but he didn't remember until he, Tamahome, Mia--err, Mimi, and Hotohori were together."  
  


I shook my head.  "Well, that doesn't make any sense at all.  Why would Nuriko not remember until Hotohori came?  What about the other two, Chichiri and Tasuki?  Did they remember right away?"  
  


Miaka answered, which seemed strange--but then, by now I'd gathered that she must've read the story, too, which made a lot of sense considering that she and Taka were most likely both friends with this confused writing major.  "Chichiri remembered right away," she said.  "Oh, and he and Tasuki were already friends."  
  


"Did Chichiri remember before Tasuki did?"  
  


The girl nodded.  "Hai, he did.  After he remembered, he realized that Tasuki was one of the warriors, too, and so he brought him to meet everybody else.  Tasuki remembered right away, too."  
  


_My goodness, what a complicated plot.  I certainly hope this writer can form sentences better than he can form storylines, or else he's not going to go very far._

"All right," I said, "so Nuriko didn't remember right away, but when Hotohori came, he did.  Chichiri remembered right away, and Tasuki remembered right away, but Chiriko didn't.  What about the last warrior?"  
  


Miaka shook her head.  "They haven't found him yet.  They, ah..."  She threw a blushing smile at Taka.  "They thought they saw him on a commercial once, but they're pretty sure that wasn't him."  
  


"It _might've_ been him," Taka countered.  "He _was_ dressed as a doctor."  
  


"But, they only saw him for a _second_," Miaka said, "and so it probably wasn't him."

"Well, maybe Mimi needs _glasses_."

"Or, maybe Tamahome should just--"  
  


"AHH!"

I jumped, spinning towards Ryuen with wide eyes.  He didn't appear to be hurt, just sitting there with Sai's arm around him, staring into space with a shocked look on his face.  His lips were still slightly parted from that sharp little yell.

"What?" Taka demanded.  "What is it?"  
  


"Are you all right no da?"

Saihitei, meanwhile, had turned concerned eyes to his boyfriend and was trying to peer into his face; Ryuen hardly seemed to notice, however, and for a moment, I began to fear that he was having some sort of elevator flashback, and would start screaming any moment--

But, just then, he shook his head and turned startled eyes to Taka.  "The order!" he exclaimed.  "It's the order!"  
  


Taka frowned.  "What?"

"Ryuen," Saihitei said softly, "are you all right?  Do you need to lie down?"  
  


"No, no, it's okay--I just..."  He shook his head.  "They have to be found _in_ _order_, Sai!" he continued emphatically.  "Chiriko wasn't the sixth one found in the Book, he was the _seventh_, and so until Mitsukake shows up, Chiriko's not gonna remember!"  
  


Taka sat a little straighter in his chair.  "_That's_ why Nuriko didn't remember at first," he said, "because in the Book, _Hotohori_ was found first."  
  


"I suppose that does make sense," I agreed.  "But, why would they need to find everyone in order for them to remember?"

They stared at me blankly.  
  


"Won't readers expect some sort of explanation for it, I mean?"  
  


More blank stares.

Beginning to feel truly uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat and considered excusing myself to the bathroom.  Before I could do so, however, Genrou--who had been remarkably silent during the entire conversation, but most likely because he'd been staring at the T.V. screen--cleared his throat and turned to look at me.

"Ya don't fuckin' need to explain _everything_," he said matter-of-factly.  "Some stories, you're just not s'posed to know.  Look at fuckin' Groundhog Day.  I mean, shit, ya never get to know _why_ the guy has to keep repeatin' the same goddamn day over'n over, he just _does_."  He shrugged, the movement rattling the chains at his neck.  "Just the way stuff is sometime.  Ya don't get to know."

After that, the very strange and complex conversation dwindled into talk of more mundane things--Houjun's work, Miaka's classes, how many new accounts Taka had signed on at the bank.  Attentions drifted thankfully away from me, and I took advantage of the shift to seek out the bathroom, moreso because I needed to clear my head than anything else.  Smiling a bit as Miaka dove into her second bowl of popcorn, I rose from the couch and started across the wide expanse of carpet towards the hallway.  The bedroom, I assumed, was back here, and unless Saihitei had installed one on the balcony, the bathroom would be also.

Upon entering the hallway, dimly lit and stretching only about eight feet before halting at a broom closet, I spotted the bathroom on the left.  The door hung open, probably so I wouldn't go wandering into the bedroom across the hall by mistake, and inside, I could see an elegant old-fashioned cabinet with brass knobs and a bottle of mulberry soft-soap on the counter.  I was actually halfway in the door and reaching for the light switch when something stopped me.  I'd noticed Saihitei and Ryuen leaving a few moments earlier, claiming they needed to retrieve something from somewhere, but I hadn't quite put it together that they'd retreated to the bedroom.  For a moment, my cheeks got _very _warm as I considered just what circumstances might bring a loving couple into such a room--but then I realized that the voice I was hearing was tinged with concern, not...erm...anything else.

"--sure you're all right?" Saihitei was asking, his words clear through the slightly-ajar bedroom door.

There was a moment's pause and a rustle of fabric--despite how morally opposed I was and had always been to eavesdropping, I couldn't help creeping over to the door and, very slowly, knowing I would probably alienate myself from these people forever if I was caught, peering in through the crack.  

Neither Ryuen nor Sai was even looking in my direction.  The two stood in the middle of the room, a king-sized bed with a cream comforter and brass bedposts an inch or so away from them.  Saihitei's features were wrinkled with concern, and Ryuen's face was hidden, swallowed up in the tight embrace the two were sharing.  At the sight of the hug, which was so clearly not my business, I almost turned and retreated into the bathroom--what I was doing was wrong, anyway, and certainly not an opportune way of repaying these two for having me over.  My legs, however, didn't seem to wish to move, so despite my inner qualms, I remained where I was.

After a few moments of just standing there, wrapped in each other's arms and swaying slightly as if to music audible only to them, Ryuen lifted his head from Saihitei's shoulder, and I couldn't help but notice the moisture swimming in his eyes.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.  "I...I know it shouldn't still affect me like this.  I mean...it was such a long time ago.  But I-I still...I mean, I can't--"  
  


"Shh," Saihitei murmured.  Smiling gently at the smaller man, he wrapped his arms more snugly around the slender shoulders and tugged Ryuen close.  "It's all right," he said softly, smoothing a hand over thick violet hair.  "This isn't something you need to overcome right away, or at all, if you don't want to.  Something--"  His voice trembled slightly.  "Something horrible happened to you, sweetheart, and it's only natural for you to want to avoid being in the place where it happened."  
  


Ryuen shook his head, and although his body seemed relaxed and comfortable in Saihitei's arms, his voice was tense, and barely above a whisper.  "Why can't I get over this, Sai?  It was _eight years ago_.  Why can't I get over it?  I mean--"  He laughed, but it came out sounding sharp and flat.  "--if I can get over memories of being skewered to death by a _werewolf_, why can't I get past this?"  
  


Saihitei's features constricted in real anguish, making me forget for a moment that what Ryuen had just said made no sense at all; when he answered, the words seemed to be coming with real difficulty.  "Sweetheart, when you...when you faced...Ashitare, you knew who you were.  You knew that you were a Suzaku Shichiseishi and that strength was your gift and that even if you died, it would be for some greater good.  But...but Ryuen, when you were fourteen, you didn't know any of that--you didn't know your strength, or any of us, and certainly what...happened in that elevator didn't serve any greater purpose.  It's _okay_ that it still affects you.  It's _okay_.  I'll do whatever I can to help you get past it, but if it takes another five or ten or _fifty_ years before you do, then that's all right."  The taller man drew back from the embrace so he could smile down at Ryuen, and as their eyes met, I saw so much love passing between them that it made my chest ache.  "I'll be here, Ryuen.  For as long as it takes.  And longer."

I drew back, then, as Saihitei leaned down to press his lips to Ryuen's, and hurried into the bathroom, where--after closing the door--I went immediately to the toilet and sank down on the seat cover to think.

There was definitely something strange going on, here--_definitely_.  No question at all about it.  One didn't have to be a scholar of logic and reason to notice that, however, and the real test would be if I could piece together enough of the clues to figure out just what that something strange was.  

The fact was, however, that no matter how nonsensical Ryuen's talk of werewolves had been, no matter how deeply I got the impression of a secret tying these people together, I still liked them.  We had only just met, some of us for the first time tonight, and yet being here felt somehow as if I'd stumbled into a family reunion--minus the fruit salad and great aunts pinching my cheeks, of course.

Shaking my head, I rose to my feet and walked soberly to the sink.  In the half-moon mirror, I saw a pale, thin boy with spiky hair just starting to droop, features lined with confusion, and cheeks just chubby enough to offer a good grip:  me.  The same image--aside from the hair, naturally--that I'd seen staring back at me for all my life, and one that despite not being entirely pleased with, I'd learned to accept and possibly even like.

But tonight, something was different about him--about me.  No matter how long I stood there staring at my reflection, however, I couldn't seem to pinpoint just what it was--but _something_ was different.  It wasn't until I heard, "Neeeeeeee, Doukun, are you all right in there?" from the other room that I realized that maybe, just maybe, this was what Ou Doukun looked like when he had _friends_.

With a small grin, I turned from the mirror and opened the door, and pledged to let myself forget what I'd overheard and just enjoy the night.  There would be time enough to analyze it later, after all, when I was back in my lonely dorm room with nothing better to do.  __

_Yes_, I thought, settling in on the couch between Ryuen and Genrou, who had—if the debris was anything to judge by, at least—apparently been hurling popcorn at one another before I showed up.  _There'll be lots of time for that later. _

_LOTS_ _of time. _

~*~


End file.
